


Beau's 1001st Mistake

by Interrobang



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau is a hopeless lesbian, F/F, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: Beau's first mistake was agreeing to let Jester give her a tattoo.Well, no. Her first mistake was agreeing to travel with Jester and the rest of the Nein all those months ago, thus sending her down a tumbling path that had most recently ended with her falling ass-over-teakettle in love. Or...something. Was it love if you mostly just wanted to rail the other person into next week, but occasionally you thought about growing old, retiring to the countryside, and raising show cats together?
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 3
Kudos: 129





	Beau's 1001st Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first CR fic, and the first thing I've written since like...June. I can't wait to write more.

Beau’s first mistake was agreeing to let Jester give her a tattoo.

Well, no. Her _first_ mistake was agreeing to travel with Jester and the rest of the Nein all those months ago, thus sending her down a tumbling path that had most recently ended with her falling ass-over-teakettle in love. Or...something. Was it love if you mostly just wanted to rail the other person into next week, but occasionally you thought about growing old, retiring to the countryside, and raising show cats together?

Well, it was something. 

Beau’s thousandth-and-first mistake was agreeing to let Jester give her a tattoo.

Now Beau lay shirtless on her bed, face resting on her folded arms as Jester straddled her back, a buzzing, inky needle in hand. 

“Jesus, Jes, watch the pressure.” Beau tried to hold still as Jester wiggled from her position on Beau’s hips, one hand braced on the monk’s shoulder as the other hand worked a delicate design into her lower back.

“Sorry, Beau,” Jester said with a slight pat to her flank. “I just want to get the details, like, _really_ nice, you know? All delicate and pretty, like you.”

Beau grimaced, then flinched again when the tensing of her muscles only made the needle’s pain that much sharper. “Delicate? I’m not delicate. Maybe you’re thinking of Fjord.”

“Pssh, Fjord’s not delicate, Beau, just sensitive. You’re all--” She drew fingers down Beau’s bare back, fingers walking over the knobs of her spine. “Human and _squishy_ , even if you _are_ super buff.” The needle buzzed, another cutting line of pain blooming down Beau’s hip.

“Great, now I’m delicate _and_ squishy,” Beau grumbled.

“And pretty,” Jester reminded her in a sing-song tone. Beau had a brief respite while Jester switched colors with her tattoo gun, humming happily. Her hip throbbed. The flock of eight birds ascending up the line of her hip was starting to take shape, but it burned, the buzzing of the needle feeling less like a series pokes and more like a very fine scalpel slowly carving out each individual bird on her skin. 

Quite suddenly, there was a touch at Beau’s leg. Not Jester’s hand-- no, both of Jester’s hands were now bracing on her hips as Jester readjusted her position to start in the last of her detail work. This was something altogether different, thin and whip-like, sliding down her calf, the velvety soft, spaded tip of Jester’s tail flicking against Beau’s ankle before curling around it in a secure hold. 

Beau froze. 

She rolled her foot as if stretching, curling her toes experimentally. Jester’s tail only tightened around her ankle, the texture of it like soft suede against Beau’s travel-rough skin. The spade flapped against the bottom of her foot as if chastising her for moving. 

“Okay, final touches for today!” Jester exclaimed, wiggling against Beau’s thighs. Beau fought a groan. Any other time and she’d have been delighted to be in this position.

“No googly eyes on any of the birds, got it?” Beau said sternly. “I’m trusting you, Jes.”

There was a pat on Beau’s left hip-- opposite of where the tattoo was going-- before Jester’s hand slipped up and up, to the small of Beau’s waist, then further, fingers drawing along Beau’s ribs, mere centimeters from the curve of a breast. Quite suddenly Beau felt very exposed. Every minute break in the silence around them seemed to vibrate in Beau’s ears, thunderous the longer the lull in conversation went on. 

Then, by her ear: 

“I know.” Quiet, small, a hint of a giggle behind it. The tiefling’s tail released Beau’s ankle, flickering instead up the inside of her leg as if it had a mind of its own. Jester’s left hand still rested on Beau’s ribcage, the back of the right pressed against Beau’s right hip, still holding the dormant tattoo gun. She leaned down again, pressing her lips against the nape of Beau’s neck. “That was your first mistake.”

She blew a wet, ticklish, _obscenely_ loud raspberry.

And still-- somehow, despite her best efforts-- Beau found it unbearably sexy.

She was so fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to learn more about what I'm working on currently and keep up with my awful shitposts and/or polls about what to write next, follow me on Twitter @GoInterrobang


End file.
